


regular love

by casualbird



Series: killugontent [2]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Boys in Skirts, First Dates, Fluff, Healing, M/M, Pasta salad, Post-Canon, this is really gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26567338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualbird/pseuds/casualbird
Summary: The point is that Gon is so beautiful Killua can scarcely tell what he’s saying, what with his joy-crinkled eyes, his bright eternal verve.Gon and Killua finally make it to their first date.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Series: killugontent [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932280
Comments: 13
Kudos: 61





	regular love

**Author's Note:**

> this is canon-compliant through the end of the anime but i've no idea what happens after that beyond 'gon goes to spend some time with mito' so
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!!!!!

Killua thinks _this is the best pasta salad I’ve ever had,_ and shudders, realizing once more that he is an adult. That he eats broccoli now, gets on Alluka’s case about the same.

But. To be fair. It is excellent pasta salad. The seasoning is baller, and the crisp vegetables all come from Gon’s little kitchen garden, because of course Gon keeps a _little kitchen garden._ He’d started it with Mito, a while after he went home, and Killua had gotten endless tirades of texts about how hard it was to beat back the zucchini, the weird shapes his carrots gnarled into.

Still, they are delicious, even though this is not the point.

The point is that Gon made it last night, chopping veggies with his tongue poking out, fridged it with a triumphant whoop. Pulled it out this morning, wrapped it in an honest-to-God picnic basket, smiled sheepishly when he snuck a cherry tomato. The point is that they lugged it out to the top of Whale Island, spread their blanket on soft sun-warmed grass, toasted their lemonades _to us._

The point is that Gon is so beautiful Killua can scarcely tell what he’s saying, what with his joy-crinkled eyes, his bright eternal verve. He wears a breeze-billowed calico prairie dress, the one Mito helped him make. The one Killua is terribly certain he is going to be forced to write poetry about. That one.

If this is not spellbinding enough, even as Gon shovels pasta down his throat, one broad hand never moves from atop Killua’s.

Killua thinks _help, I’m too gay for this,_ over and over, missing cues to laugh, Gon’s cheery rapid-fire questions zinging straight over his head.

He just keeps looking--at the curl of Gon’s fingers, the smile-tears at the corners of his eyes. The way the afternoon sun brings out all those dappling freckles.

He thinks, again, _holy shit, Gon, you are light,_ and it’s not even a codependent trauma travesty this time--it’s just that Gon’s _here._ Here, and gorgeous, firework-vibrant and safe.

It reminds him of that time, when they were young. When every third word from Gon’s mouth was _help Kite,_ when they’d spend their every single minute side by side. When they’d walk down to that park, so Knuckle could kick Gon’s scrawny ass again--and that was the only time Killua’s attention would stray.

In the evenings, on the boulevards and fire escapes, the cafè patios of the world, the people who loved each other would come out. After dark, like mosquitoes, and Killua did so itch with them.

It looked so easy when they did it, he remembers thinking. Like all the world was background noise, just a comforting thrum behind them and the person they fit. Taking walks, playing in fountains, flitting in and out of shops and cinemas--a regular love, Killua thought. Not for people with concerns like him and Gon’s.

Even if the circumstances had been right, it wouldn’t have happened. Killua had the words, or some of them, but they’d all curled up in his diaphragm to die.

It was useless, though, because the circumstances were gravely, egregiously wrong.

Bad things happened back then, more than any child should have to contend with. Bad things still happen, hell, all the time.

None of them are here, on the bluff above the harbor, where the ships pass far away like ducks. On this picnic blanket, in this glorious picture-book meadow.

It’s only him and Gon, who cartwheels down the hill, skirt flipping up into his face. It’s only Killua, laughing, hand still just-warm from being held, thinking _I don’t even care how lame it is that I want to stay here forever._

**Author's Note:**

> hiiii!!!! i hope you liked this, it was a blast to write... i love these gay babies so much i swear i'll just keel over dead at some point. let me know what you thought of this, and come hang out with me on [twitter (18+)](https://twitter.com/bird_scribbles) or my [shiny new hxh server](https://discord.gg/538UrFQ) if you like!!!!
> 
> have a nice day!!!! :^>


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